Upon consideration, I'm just going to play this one straight: one of Bono's peacocks has been wasting police time.

A resident of Killiney, the exclusive Dublin neighbourhood in which the U2 frontman lives, called the garda after a particularly vocal peahen had outstayed its welcome in her garden. As this Susan McKeon tells the Irish Independent: "They said: 'Oh, for God's sake, it's Bono's,' and I said: 'What will I do with it?' and they said: 'I don't know, you can do what you want with it.' I replied: 'Well, supposing I kill it and put it in the oven?' and he actually said: 'I don't care.' He said to me that they had put too many man-hours into Bono's peacock."

Well! What a beguiling vignette of Irish community life. But that was far from the end of it, as further Bono neighbours called a local radio station to relate their own problems with the bird, which apparently has "a tiny head and a huge body" (the exact obverse of its master, in fact).

"It went into my neighbour's house next door," another resident explained, "and left a lovely message on her lawn."

What can you say? Other than fair play to the bird. It has clearly decided to serve as a living, breathing Bono metaphor – squawking, preening, strutting around like it owns the place, and an irksome drain on civic resources funded by taxpayers other than itself. Indeed, I can think of no more eloquent way for the bird to illustrate Bono's tax avoidance than by quite literally shitting on his neighbours' doorstep, and demand this feathered performance artist be given a by on to this year's Turner prize shortlist.